A Yellow Ribbon Ring
by July Storms
Summary: Auruo x Petra. Lacking money and time, Auruo and Petra still manage to have their dream wedding.


**A Yellow Ribbon Ring**

**Notes**: This is for my good friend Cello, who gave me the idea unintentionally. My first (but hopefully not last) contribution to the cute Auruo x Petra fandom. Yellow ribbons are used in the USA as military support; most recently people tied them around trees to welcome home (or wish back home safely) soldiers.

* * *

When Auruo returned to his room after a fast shower, he found it too big and too empty. The sky was darker than usual; when he moved to the window he could see lightning flashing across the sky in the distance. He pulled up on the frame of the window anyway and pushed a stick in the side-frame to keep the heavy thing from crashing down again. A breeze would help air the room out. It wouldn't make it less empty but at least it would help with the stuffiness—stuffy because it was still full of things that would be taken out the next morning, taken out and shipped away to a squat little house in the Chlorba District.

He tried not to think about the family Leonard told him about a thousand times—parents still disgustingly in love even though his mom couldn't walk anymore, and a little sister with long, curly hair and bright green eyes.

It just wasn't fair—that death came so easily to some. Within a few days, Leonard's family would receive their son's jacket, blood still splashed across the lapels, and his belongings.

Auruo buried himself in his bed beneath all of his blankets and pushed his face into his pillow to keep from picturing little Gina, whom he'd only ever heard about, finding out that her brother would never come home again. It reminded him too much of his parents and his brothers and he couldn't stomach the thought of his dad opening the front door one day to find someone from the Survey Corps standing there who wasn't him. It was still too easy to imagine, though—easy to think about, because it had happened to so many people already.

Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, he heard his door creak open, and Petra came into the room, walked right in the door like knocking had gone out of fashion or something.

She sat on the little slice of space that served as his bed and said, "Hey."

He knew that he should probably say something normal in response, but all he could manage was, "It's been a year."

They'd joined the Corps together to make a difference, to protect their families, to watch each other's backs, and a year had passed that way. They were both still alive, but how many had they seen die on each expedition?

Auruo had let Leonard talk to him, but he'd failed to filter everything out. He'd tried. His last three roommates had talked to him, too, and he knew all about their hometown sweethearts and their parents and their siblings, their grandparents, nephews and nieces, sometimes their own children, too. And he'd told himself to stop listening, to pretend to listen, to filter every goddamned thing out that he could, because when they inevitably died he'd found himself thinking about the people in their lives, like Rick's sweet Granny Mildred and how her hands shook all the time; for weeks he'd pictured some hunched-over old lady reading a letter by candlelight, hands shaking so badly she'd drop the letter and it'd catch on fire and burn, burn, _burn_—

"I'm sorry about Leonard," Petra whispered, the fingers of one hand settling against his head, brushing through his unruly hair.

"Don't be," he tried saying, though it lacked his usual roughness, "I knew he was gonna kick it anyway."

"Auruo!"

"What? It's true. I knew it from the very first. He spent too much time dreamin' about fuckin' _glory_ and shit—"

"I'm still sorry," Petra cut in.

"Yeah." And then, after a moment, he rolled over against the wall. "Thanks."

"Can I stay?"

Petra wore a plain nightdress as always, but she looked great. She would look great in a burlap sack, too, if anyone were to ask Auruo's opinion. "You gonna nag me about the window being open?"

"You going to hog the entire bed and toss me onto the floor again?"

"Maybe."

"Then maybe."

He grinned and pulled up the blankets, watched her slide in and settle her head on the edge of his pillow. It was a nice sight as always—she was safe and whole and the little bandage around her wrist was such a small price to pay that he couldn't even mention it anymore, not when the alterative was so often dismemberment or death. He didn't even notice that he was staring at her until he saw her face flush.

"What?" she asked, sounding unusually shy.

"Just admiring my favorite nag."

"Well—well, stop."

"Why?"

"Because it's embarrassing."

"No it's not."

"Not for _you_. Maybe I should do it to you, see how you like it."

Auruo reached out and tweaked her pert little nose and grinned wider as she squeaked and pushed his arm away. "I'd pose for ya," he said. "Then we'd see how long you could keep staring."

"Before what?" she challenged, smile tugging at her lips as she folded her arms behind her head and looked up at the dark ceiling. "Before I started laughing?"

He snorted and rolled onto his back. "Before you pounced, but whatever."

They were quiet for a long time—the quiet rumbling in the distance grew louder, and lighting lit up the room.

"Hey, Auruo?"

"Yeah?"

She didn't even look at him. "I—the last few days were really bad, you know?"

He'd been prepared to snap back with something witty, but all cleverness lost him at the tone of her voice. "Yeah," was all he could think to say.

"What do you think about getting married?"

He sat straight up, blinking furiously, heart pounding in his chest. "What?"

She stayed where she was. "It's just a question, Auruo. Don't get so bent out of shape."

"But where the hell'd it come from?"

She swallowed hard, and when he looked down at her, she had tears in her goddamned eyes. "I just…" She took a deep breath, and steeled her gaze, and then continued as he made himself lie back down. "I see people die every time we go out there, and one day… _One day_ it's going to be us."

"Petra, I—"

"No, listen to me, Auruo!" She leaned up on one elbow and pushed her hair behind her ear with her free hand. "One day, it _will _be us. You're not that naïve, come on."

"I try not to think about it," he told her, voice rougher than he wanted it to be. That was true, at least; the last thing he wanted to ever think about was walking into his stupid room and there just not being a Petra anymore. He almost hated the image of her walking back to her room without him more, though. Maybe it was egotistical of him, but after Debbie—her first roommate—had died, he'd held Petra for hours and hours and she'd cried her heart out for someone she'd only known for two weeks. How much worse would it hurt her to lose him? She'd known him for years.

She bit her lip. "I don't want to think about it, either," she said, "but it's true. You've seen how many people have died. You know what the chances of survival are every time we go out there. And you know that overconfidence doesn't help anyone. Even humanity's supposed _strongest_ doesn't come back completely uninjured. None of us do."

"So you wanna get hitched before one of us kicks it?"

She sighed and fell back to the bed. "Not when you put it like that, I don't."

"Fine," he said. "So…you want to get married just in case one of us dies? Why? So I can say that I'm—so _you_—" He couldn't finish his thoughts, couldn't say the word "widower" or "widow" because it was just too much.

"I don't know," she said. And then, a moment later, "Maybe. Is that stupid?"

"Yeah. Gettin' married won't make death any easier or anything." He'd given it more thought than he probably should have. When she didn't respond, he added, hesitantly, "I guess it's not _so_ dumb, though. It's a nice thought. Gettin' married in one of those churches. Flowers and shit. You getting' to wear a nice dress."

"Yeah?" She was smiling like a complete doofus and he loved it.

"Yeah," he said.

They were both silent until the thunder rumbled so loudly it made Petra jump. She touched his arm. "Let's do it."

"What?"

"Get married! Right now!"

"Petra, it's midnight or some shit. We can't get married right now. And I ain't got the kind of money to get a nice church or any of that other shit—"

"Stop being such a spoilsport," she told him, and tugged on his hair. "We'll do it here. Right here."

"Are you drunk?"

She smacked the back of his head. "No, and don't ask that again! This is a legitimate idea." She turned over on her side to face him and grinned.

He lifted one eyebrow, though he wasn't sure if it was out of curiosity or concern. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Okay, we'll have to pretend, well, basically everything. But it'll be nice, I promise. Okay, so…close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

Auruo let out an exaggerated sigh and closed his eyes.

"Okay, I'll close mine, too. No peeking! That's cheating."

"Yes, nag."

"And no name-calling, this is a happy moment."

"If you say so." He had no idea what was going on, but Petra enlightened him quickly.

"Okay, now picture one of those little churches." She gave him about five seconds before she asked, "Are you picturing it?"

"Yeah."

"What color is it?"

"What?"

"I asked what color the church is."

"White, I guess." Churches usually were whitewashed. It helped them stick out from the other buildings.

"All right, so you're inside the church, and you're standing at the front. There are tons of benches and people are sitting there—"

"Who's sitting there?"

"Who do you think would be sitting there?" she asked.

"Well, my parents, I guess."

"Yeah, and your brothers! And my dad, too. And we could invite some of our friends from the Corps…"

"Humanity's Strongest scowling from the last row," Auruo added, grinning despite himself.

Petra laughed, which made the jibe worth it. "Sure, why not? And there'd be Mike and Dita and Hange and Nanaba, too."

"We might as well just invite the entire Corps."

"Commander Erwin, too. Why not?"

"Okay, so the entire Corps is at our imaginary wedding."

"It's not imaginary," she said as thunder rumbled overhead again.

"Fine, our _perfect_ wedding." Lightning lit up the room; Auruo could see it behind his eyes, but he didn't open them.

"Yeah, they're all there."

"Where am I?"

"You're standing up front with the pastor, facing the middle aisle, of course."

"What am I wearing?"

"Hmm, you're wearing a really nice suit, and Captain Levi's given you a cravat."

Auruo snorted. "You really _are_ dreamin'!"

"Well, why shouldn't he? It's your wedding! And he's not entirely uncharitable."

"All right, fine. A nice suit, and a brand-new cravat presented to me by none other than the captain." Auruo hated to admit it (only to himself, of course), but he was sure that if Captain Levi presented him with a cravat on his wedding day he'd probably scream like an overexcited child.

"It's a nice tan color, too. Pressed white shirt, brand-new shoes."

"Yes, go on…"

"You're very handsome, not a speck of dust on those clothes, and your shoes are polished, and you shaved with a brand-new razor and everything. Your hair's like it always is, though. You couldn't even tame it for this one day."

"Naturally," he grumbled, but in his mind, he presented a fairly nice picture all dressed up standing by the altar. "All right, we got me, so what about you?"

"Well, all right, I don't know many songs, but there's a piano there, and someone in the Corps knows how to play it, all right?"

"Probably the commander himself," Auruo joked.

Petra stayed silent for a long moment and then she said, "Now that you mention it, he probably _does_ know how to play. Okay, so Commander Smith is up there and he starts playing one of those songs they play at weddings—something slow."

Auruo couldn't help himself—he started humming, haltingly at first, a slow sort of song he thought would work during a wedding. He felt like an idiot, but what they were doing was stupid anyway—what did it matter if he added a little more to it?

"Yes!" Petra said, pleased. "Keep going. Okay so while this plays, the doors to the church open, and I'm standing there in the doorway, and the entire church stands up to see me—I think that's what people do, right?—and you can't see me at first. Not until I get to the middle aisle. My dad would walk me down, but the church is too small and my dress is probably too big, so he's sitting in the front watching me and I'm walking by myself, but I look up at you when I turn to head down the middle aisle and—"

Auruo stopped humming.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Well, how could I keep makin' stupid noises when you're standing down there at the end of the aisle by yourself?"

"I'm holding flowers," she told him.

"Yeah," he said, "a goddamned bouquet of sunflowers. The little ones."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"What else would you be carrying? It's the middle of the summer."

"What else am I wearing?"

Auruo was surprised to find that he knew exactly how Petra would look. "Well, nag, you're wearing your hair up. Nanaba probably helped you with it—don't ask how she knows how to do long hair when she practically shaves her own off, but like hell I'd let _Hange_ help you with your hair, right? Okay, so it looks pretty nice—your hair, I mean. You're not wearing a stupid veil—I wanna see your fuckin' face, after all, and your hair, and everything—so no veil. But maybe there's a nice hair accessory—somethin' your mom wore once, I don't know."

"The silver pin," Petra whispered.

"Yeah, sure, that silver thing, clipped right above your up-do. It looks great. And so do you, carryin' those stupid sunflowers and wearing a white dress with a yellow sash—"

"Yellow? Auruo—"

"I know, nobody wears yellow but you do because I said so. It matches the sunflowers, and it's early in the morning so it matches everything because the stupid church is full of light and you're wearing these silly little slippers, like the ones the rich ladies in Sina wear regular-like."

"That sounds nice."

"It's real nice, Petra."

"So I finish walking up the aisle and I take your hands like this," she grabbed his hands in both of hers and held them between the two of them, "and we face each other and then the wedding starts."

"I don't know what they say at weddings or anything."

"Well, I know a little. Let's see… Uhm… The pastor will have us repeat things after him, like…the fact that we'll stay together in sickness and in health."

"Well, duh," he said, "or I'd have ditched you when you puked all over me that one time."

Petra squeezed his hand hard. "Okay, fine, we'll write our own vows. I guess we can do that."

"Why the heck not? It's our goddamned wedding."

"You can't say that in a church, Auruo."

"I can so."

"You can't! It's like—blasphemy or something!"

"Whatever," he said. "Okay, so what kinds of vows will we use?"

"Okay, we've each written our own, so… You go first."

"Me? Why not you?"

"Because the man is always first."

"You're making that up."

"Maybe. So go, it's your turn. The only time you'll be faster than me at anything so important."

"Does it have to be mushy?"

"No, it just has to be sincere."

"Okay. I love you, and your stupid nagging, and the little freckles on your nose, and you're never gonna get rid of me 'cause you're almost stuck with me forever thanks to this wedding thing. I won't leave if you puke on me, or nag at me all day. I won't even leave if you fuckin'—" he paused and swallowed hard, but pushed on, because it was fuckin' true. "Even if you do the unforgivable and _die_ on me, I'm not goin' _anywhere_. Not without you, 'cause that's what marriage is all about, right? Stickin' together forever or some shit?"

"Auruo…"

"Okay, the language was a bit much, but there. I said it. It's all true. You still wanna marry me, Petra?"

"I do," she whispered.

"Well." Auruo was suddenly at a loss for words. "Good."

"It's my turn, now. Uhm…" She giggled nervously, and Auruo grinned.

"You forgot to write your own vows?" he asked. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging like this."

"I love you, you know that," she said, softly, and squeezed both of his hands in hers. "It's not… It's not something that a person can really put into words, you know? You've just… You've always been there for me, and we've been together for such a long time that what we have isn't explainable by words in front of an audience. It's in all the things you do and say, even when you're cussing like an idiot, like how you washed me up after I puked all over you that one time, and when you kiss me on the forehead because you think I've fallen asleep. Auruo, I'll never go anywhere you can't follow. Do you—"

He didn't even wait—couldn't wait. It was stupid, how much he loved this woman, this short woman with a bit of a temper and the ability to nag any man into a stupor. Goddamn he loved her more than any man ought to love anybody, particularly a man in the Survey Corps. He kissed her right then, broke his promise to keep his eyes closed, and kissed her with them open just to see her face.

The funny thing was that it didn't really diminish the image of her from his mind at all. If anything, it strengthened it.

"We're not at that part, yet," she said breathlessly when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. "And I can't believe you kissed me like that in a church full of people."

"It's as sincere as the rest of it," he said. "What's next?"

"The ring," she said.

"Ain't got no ring."

"Me either. Uhm…oh! I have an idea." She shifted beside him and took back one of her hands for a moment; when she touched him again, it was to press something into his palm.

"Petra…this is a ribbon."

"Well, in a book I read once, they used a piece of string. I figure a ribbon is prettier. Just tie it around my finger."

He did as asked—even tied the silly thing into a bow for her. "There," he said, just before thunder shook the room, and lightning flashed again, illuminating Petra's face.

"All right, now the pastor will ask something like, 'Do you take Petra Ral to be your lawfully wedded wife?' and then you say—"

"I do. And do you take Auruo Bossard to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Petra whispered.

"Well then," Auruo said, "I guess there's no going back for you, is there?"

She rubbed her nose against his. "Not for you, either."

Auruo tried not to smile like an idiot but failed and wrapped his arms around her. "As if I'd want to back out of this," he said, and kissed her soundly before whispering against her hair, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

"Oh, so you do remember something of weddings after all, don't you?"

"A little," he admitted. "But our vows were better, anyway."

"Yeah," she agreed as rain began to pound on the roof. "They were."

* * *

Morning light woke Auruo from a nice dream—the first nice dream he could remember having in years. He yawned, stretched, and looked to his side to see Petra snoring away peacefully, left hand over her face, the other tucked securely under the blankets.

The ribbon from the night before was still wrapped around her ring finger.

Auruo felt silly for being happy to see it—silly as hell for grinning because it was a yellow ribbon, too.

He leaned over Petra, brushed her bangs out of her face, and kissed her nose.

"Hey," he said, "naggy wife. Wake up."


End file.
